


safe space

by lockit (orphan_account)



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Concerts, Dancing and Singing, Drinking, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, Other, Out of Character, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lockit
Summary: "It was difficult, but… We were alive, we had friends who stuck by us and passion. Even on cold nights we'd have faith. Spikemuth will never be as rich as Wyndon, or as comfortable as Turffield. But we have heart you know? Sometimes that's all you need to carry on."Sometime after their last meeting, Piers invites Raihan to a private concert.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	safe space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keinine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keinine/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Mitchell! <3
> 
> This is probably a little out of character but let's just blame that on the implied drinking!
> 
> also the mentioned ocs belong to us, but you can ignore them if you'd like.

Raihan wasn't sure what to expect when he was invited by Piers to a private concert. He had some basic idea of what that meant, he wasn't an idiot. The concept of a private concert was easy to grasp, but of course there was a near endless amount of possibilities that could warrant it being an exclusive event. Well. Exclusive didn't feel like the right word, Piers wasn't a snob, hell, he'd probably glare at Raihan for even thinking that. But still, he had to wonder.

He hadn't actually seen Piers since the whole Dynamax accident, when he had shown more of that amazing strength of his to aid him along with the new Champion. After that fiasco they had simply returned to normal, normal being Raihan tirelessly increasing his efforts to beat Leon (which seemed a little redundant to everyone else — Leon was no longer the champion, so what was the point?) and ensuring the vault beneath Hammerlocke was protected to avoid yet another incident. He assumed Piers had returned to aid his little sister in the running of the Spikemuth gym. They hadn't spoken either, minus the occasional "what's up".

Getting an invite at all surprised him. But what he saw when the day came and he arrived in Spikemuth was a lot less wild than he figured it might be. Given the raw energy at Piers concerts on a public scale, he had convinced himself after hours of speculation that behind closed doors things would be wilder.

But alas, he had been wrong. The building he stood in front of wasn't lush, at least not from the outside, it was wedged somewhere in the darker corners of Spikemuth, the kind of corners you'd usually feel unnerved in, but given the fact that Spikemuth's punks were more likely to haggle you to death with support and enthusiasm rather than rob you, Raihan didn't mind the looming of taller buildings.

The door was heavy looking — iron and rusted, one likely made for fires — and had a little slot-like window. A shabby looking label sat above an old doorbell, with the words "Ring twice" scrawled in some kind of purple marker. He rang it, twice as prompted, waiting with his hands in his pockets, his iconic dragon themed attire switched out a normal black hoodie and some jeans. His dreadlocks free from their containment with his hat and hanging around his eyes. He could hear music faintly, but the bell was louder. Beneath that was the sound of heavy footsteps and the scrape of metal sliding against metal.

The slot opened up and two pale yellow eyes peered up at him through a mess of creamish-blonde and black.

"Who're you?" A soft voice, one ringed with exhaustion.

Raihan felt a little insulted, but then again, he wasn't wearing the things that made his brand.

"Raihan. Hammerlocke's gym leader. Your mate Piers invited me."

The figure behind the door squinted for a moment then turned away.

"Oh. Alright, wait a minute."

More scraping. The slot shut and their footsteps grew quieter. He crossed his arms, ignoring the slight chill. A few moments later there came the clicking and clunking of locks before the door swung inward and revealed a far nicer lounge. The walls were painted titanium black, with neon signs and fluorescent lights hanging on them. Their yellow glow softly illuminating the room. Sofas packed with talking guests, all uninterested in him. The music was clearer and louder now and definitely live, coming from upstairs in fact. A metal stairways sat in the corner, spiralling up into the unknown.

"Piers is upstairs with the others."

The person who opened the door (small, _way_ smaller than him) shuffled to the bar to his left, asked the grunt behind it for two beers and gestured Raihan to the stairs with a tilt of their head. Their hair was thick and long and unruly, like Piers'. They wore dark colours, most of their upper body concealed with a thin turtleneck. Their boots had little heels, so he assumed they were even smaller without them. There was something very familiar about them.

"You on hostess duty then?"

"Something like that. Though that's not really the best way to start a conversation you know," they said, giving him a pointed look. He apologised. They shrugged and carried on talking, "you don't remember me, do you?"

"You do look familiar if that's any consolation." He joked almost awkwardly as they headed for the stairs. They rose a brow but simply handed him his beer and ascended with the light clicks of their boots. Raihan tailed them, following up to the second landing. The music came from behind a normal wooden door this time, painted in black varnish. The hall was lit with more neon lights, phosphorescence kept the darkness at bay.

They hummed, pushing open the door with one hand. All at once sound flooded his senses, the dimly lit room was set up like a concert hall, only to a much smaller scale and with comfort definitely put as a top priority. It smelt faintly of weed, more strongly of chinese takeaway and alcohol, but what's a good party with a little bit of illegal activity.

Sat on beanbags and large mattresses and more sofas were goths and punks and emos, even a few scene kids, some dressed elaborately, others dressed down, like him and the person at his side. Raihan ignored the lingering sense of unease when he noticed a few skinheads here and there. He could see Piers, his hair left down, it cascading across his shoulders, silky and shiny and characteristically untamed. He wore a tight black tee and his signature choker. His arm was slinked over the back of a love seat that he occupied with a dark skinned goth woman with bright white hair. Both laughing and drinking. Raihan didn't get why seeing that sent a jealous pang to his heart. Or, well, he pretended he didn't get it.

On the makeshift stage a small band played, but all eyes were trained to woman singing. Her face was only just visible in the dark when the flashing lights skimmed over her features, but her voice was recognisable in any small space. She was the electric gym leader, though that's not how he knew of her originally. She was famous for her music, on a far more global scale than Piers. _Damn_ , he thought. Seemed he had good connections.

She pranced around, her body swaying in time with the music. Not one of her own songs, but then again he only knew the song — _Black Sheep_ — from a film he'd seen. Her voice fit it well. At some point she'd made rounds around the room, blowing kisses and sometimes dancing against willing fans. Never moving to cross boundaries but alluring in her stage presence. Her outfit was bordering on elaborate, given the large bright red coat that seemed half a dozen sizes too big and the tight leather ensemble under that complete with more belts than he'd ever seen in an outfit. When she got to Piers they shared that microphone and harmonised like they'd been singing together since childhood. The spark in the other singers eyes was noticeable even in the dark and had Raihan's pulse starting to quicken.

The first song drifted into silence, Piers was pushed on stage and the room went wild. He grinned, nerves melting away. As if his voice was magnetized, attention was forcibly drawn to him.

" _Friends of mine… I have one fucking question… Are you ready...to Fucking Party?_ "

Hypnotised by how he changed, how he shone in a safe space of his own creation, Raihan couldn't look away. Piers' voice ran through the room, drawing everyone in with its rich sound. A crowd gathered around the stage, chanting and singing along, eager to be apart of this magic.

She moved and sang with him, trading verses of _Youth Without Youth_ amongst them and never crossing over even with the rapid succession of this impromptu duet. The Dragon Gym's Leader held Piers' focus, biting his lip briefly when they made eye contact. The moment was heavy, air hot and hard to breathe. Raihan was starstruck. Caught in a spiders web. He swallowed, lips parted in shock. Piers was much different here than he was on his usual stage. The way he moved his hips, how he let his voice roll smoothly off his tongue was seductive, deliberately so. He was made to be seen, built to perform and be admired. The songs end came too quickly and too slowly, he rocked between Piers' voice and the sensual way he moved. Leaving him staring a good few seconds after the song came to a close and another started.

Seconds and minutes began to blur, senses overwhelmed with something warm and pulsing. A kind of want that travelled up his spine and to his head, spreading to every corner of his brain. 

It ended too soon.

A pat on the back broke his daze, he glanced back at the short door keeper, who pointed towards Piers, the lean young man stood close by, beer in one hand, large fried shrimp in the other, and had walked over to them. His usual resting bitch face softened in the glow. He gave a little smile as the music and subsequent claps died down.

"You came." His voice wasn't the most emotive, but Raihan could still somehow tell Piers was glad. "You met Neri then, didn't give 'em no trouble did ya mate?"

Neri snorted a bit and walked on past, not after taking a bite from Piers' shrimp. The two of them watched as they wrapped their arms around the woman on stage, who drew them up into her arms and went to sit down in a free space on a mattress.

"Neri?" Raihan asked, taking a swig of beer, charmed by its cheapness.

"Yeah, old leader of the Ghost gym." Piers confirmed. He nudged a thumb in their direction. "And you know the show off too, yeah?"

"Uh huh. A real gem, really knows how to light up a room."

Music started up once again, the band playing with vigor and the kind of passion that moved people. Piers looked in his element, Raihan noticed, content with his surroundings , with people he trusted. It felt good to witness it, although a bit voyeuristic. He casually let an arm rest on the smaller man's shoulder, tensed when he actually moved closer. A few encouraging cheers from across the room had his heart pounding. He played it off, forever the cool, collected, sometimes even nerdy Raihan. They sat down on a sofa, Piers relaxed and intent, probably a little buzzed, but not in need of care.

He wasn't sure how much time passed from then onwards, at some point more people arrived, hyper, probably drunk and a little delirious, but although Piers got up to greet them all, he returned to Raihan's side time and time again. People moshed and danced around them. The space was hot, filled with bodies, but it didn't really matter. This was actually nice.

"Glad ya came, you know."

Raihan glanced down at him, Piers wasn't looking at him and he spoke between bites of food or sips of beer.

"You thought I wouldn't or something?" He asked.

Piers shifted against him and crossed his leg over the other. He opened his mouth to speak then pursed his lips.

"Well, yeah, part of me did. I mean, look at this place. Bunch'a misfits in a dingy little town running off favours and the same 50 quid." He laughed, his cheeks flushed pink. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Dunno, I was always a bit jealous of you, y'know. Yeah, you may 'ave lost against Leon when we were kids, but you wiped the floor with me...And you got this little...big miracle handed to ya."

"You mean Hammerlocke, huh?"

"Yup. And now the whole world is watching you, from Galar to Kanto. People know your name, know your face. They watch your fights, they like your shit, they care about you. I guess, I always thought you'd be too good for a rundown place like this."

Raihan leaned back against the chair, letting Piers speak, the music grew louder, the party around them carried on, but it felt as if they were in their own little plain of existence.

"I don't think that at all, you know." Piers looked at him again, so he gave him his brightest grin.

"I think you and this little bunch of misfits are great. It's your home man, I'm not going to disrespect it. Hell, where I grew up was a shit hole. My familys never been great either, seeing these lot in Spikemuth, I respect it. You're a family, fuck, Piers, I dont think I could do as much as you do for Marnie and your crew without fuck loads of help."

Piers made a noise. Raihan couldn't help but stare. He eased up to let the lanky singer stand, he stretched and ran a hand through his two-toned mane.

"Come with me, gonna go get some fresh air."

Raihan, content with whatever, shrugged his shoulders and moved to follow. Out the door they went and up another (better hidden) spiral staircase. Piers dug around in his pocket for what Raihan assumed was a key, but when he didn't find it he grumbled and with a kick hyped up on muscle memory, forced the door open. Cool air hitting his skin and moonlight casting long shadows on the stone.

Out into the night Piers waltzed, taking a seat on the cool concrete, Raihan stood beside him then sat. The view wasn't much, hell most of Spikemuth was tightly packed together, but it was home, Piers' home and Raihan felt inclined to admire it.

They sat in comfortable silence, breathing softly. Raihan looking up at the sky, Piers resting his head on his knee, almost dozing off. The music was faint up here, drowned out by the wind.

"This little place, its your safe spot, huh?" He asked.

The singer was silent a moment longer, then raised his head.

"Yeah. Before I became the gym leader Marnie 'n I used to sneak off here when things got shit at home. Me, 'er, Adeline, sometimes Neri. We'd sit up here, eating fish and chips we bought together — Marnie hates vinegar but she never complained if we got it. We'd be up 'ere for hours on end. In the summer sometimes we'd bring blankets and those silly paddling pools. We'd fill em with soft shit and sleep under the stars."

He paused to yawn, it was hard to tell if he was actually tired though. The bags under his eyes were a permanent feature.

"Couple people wanted to repurpose it. Wanted to gentrify Spikemuth, we drove em off. But Adeline insisted on buying this spot, just in case. So it would always be ours. So that Marnie had a place to come to when she's older if the going ever got tough. So she did."

Piers closed his eyes, relaxing. One opened to peer at Raihan, who sat with a content smile on his face. The wind rustled their hair.

"Sounds like its special to ya, huh."

"Yeah. Load a' memories here. After our first official battle, you remember? Back when were were still kids… Well, when I lost we came up 'ere and threw stones. Smashed someone's window."

Raihan laughed, loud.

"What?"

He chuckled and leaned back.

"Dunno, that sounds… Like a really _Piers_ thing to do."

The singer grinned. "Oh yeah?"

His laughter stifled and Raihan smiled. "Yeah."

Silence swept over them once more, they stared at each other, unbothered as they inched closer. It was childish maybe, like two silly secondary school kids unsure what to do. Hands brushed against hands, tender skin cooled by the breeze.

Raihan shrugged off his coat and pulled it around their shoulders. Piers' small frame fit neatly against him, which certainly helped. His typical squeamishness thrown out the window in exchange for warmth and simple comfort.

"We grew up too quick. Marnie too. After our parents," he paused, his breath hitched. "We didn't have much help. That changed when I became gym leader and Team Yell formed itself but before then, it was just us against the world."

"It was difficult, but… We were alive, we had friends who stuck by us and passion. Even on cold nights we'd have faith. Spikemuth will never be as rich as Wyndon, or as comfortable as Turffield. But we have heart you know? Sometimes that's all you need to carry on."

The night rolled on, hours seemed to slip by. They stayed on the roof, watching lights flicker on and off like stars. Spikemuth ever buzzing, but sometimes still. When people left, bursts of loud, pulsing noise rattled up to their ears, carried on the wind. They drifted off to silence each time.

Raihan let worries drift away. Piers shifted against him, once, twice, settling. The dragon trainer idly ran his fingers through his hair, curious about the texture, how black strands bled into white.

His body moved on its own, one hand looped around Piers' arm and the other cupped his cheek.

They leaned in, slow, and the stars moved on above them.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I ignored Spikemuths canon geography. What about it :)


End file.
